


Acorns and Oysters

by Opowossum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Bondage, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Feeding Kink, Hand Jobs, Implied Cannibalism, Kinda if you squint - Freeform, M/M, Out of Character, Pet Play, Post Fall, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Stuffing, Top Will Graham, Weight Gain, feederism, like I’m legit just really sorry about this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opowossum/pseuds/Opowossum
Summary: Hannibal’s been holding in some shame about his desires after the fall—which isn’t like him. Will takes matters into his own hands, quite literally.Post fall, Hannibal has a fantasy of being treated like livestock by Will, which quickly spills into a much different, if linked, set of kinks when Will discovers he quite likes seeing the softness take to Hannibal’s form.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	1. Fatback

Will was no fool.

And Hannibal was not a simple man.

These were two truths that they both agreed on—their shared complexities and inability to hide them from one another, to be a reflection but not a copy, was what drew the doctor to his patient, and vice versa.

And as much as Dr. Lecter wished he could have prolonged hiding behind that particular mask, there were few secrets that, after the fall, after they had licked each other’s wounds and hid away from the world, that he could keep from Will. As much as he could see fragments of himself in his lover, in the scars that marred his skin like gold on a shattered teacup, there was that wisdom beyond his years that the ex-profiler would always hold above Hannibal.

Simply, everything Hannibal knew, he’d had to fight for—tooth and nail like a hungry dog. 

All the while, however, things could come...easily to Will. Not his life, of course. Socialization, eye contact, the “borderline of aspergers and autism”, as he’d put it, were things he’d had to learn. But the observation? 

That was his innate ability; to see past the masks and disguises of the world, and to find the motives within.

The facade Hannibal had built for decades was slowly picked apart in their now-home. It was a lovely little cabin, near the sea for Will to wade out to the pier or the boats, but close enough to the city for Hannibal to seek out good produce. 

But within its walls, the two of them were just as vicious as ever—and every day was a new form of cat and mouse, and some days, Hannibal was the unfortunate rodent.

“Hannibal.” Will started one morning, speaking softly as the two curled up, the larger man in Will’s embrace as they spooned. The profiler nudged his nose to the back of Hannibal’s neck, smelling salt and sand from the night before, when they’d both chosen to walk the dog along the shore.

“Mm…?” Just beginning to blink the sleep from his eyes, Hannibal suppressed a yawn, the back of a hand covering his mouth as he felt Will run his fingers along the hair on his chest.

“You’re hard.” 

He could practically hear the giddy, shit-eating grin on Will’s face, if the lightly teasing tone was anything to go on.

“One tends to feel the stirrings of arousal in the presence of their passion.”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. You hardly ever wake up with morning wood.” 

A light little laugh, and the hand on Hannibal’s chest dipped down, teasing at the waistband of his boxer briefs as he ran his fingers along the blonde happy trail that led into it. The sensation pulled a soft, sleepy groan out of Hannibal, who was immediately more interested in what Will wanted to know.

“And why is this surprising?”

“Because you usually tell me what kind of dream got you riled up. And then that usually makes _me_ hard. And then we fuck before breakfast.”

Slightly chilly fingers dipped below the elastic, pulling a huff from Hannibal’s lips. He could feel those dark lashes against his shoulder, and the scratch of Will’s stubble as he peered over at what he was doing.

“But all you’ve done is lay here like a lump on a log, content to laze away the day without paying so much as a scrap of attention to yourself.” 

There was that slight bite to his tone—Hannibal had wondered when he’d hear it, but even so, it made his cheeks flush with surprise, feeling Will’s fingers warm to his temperature as he gave him a few lazy strokes.

“A-ah...and why is it so bothersome if...if I deny myself?”

“Because I know you, darling.” Will laughed, nipping at his ear playfully as he teased at the head of Hannibal’s cock. The action caused the older man’s hips to twitch, gasping as he curled his fingers in the sheets in front of him.

“And I know you’ve never been one to deny yourself any single pleasure in life. So you must be embarrassed about it.” 

“I-I am not—ah—!” Hannibal clamped a hand over his own mouth, thrown off-kilter as Will began to rub at the base of his head, before moving to hold the bottom of his cock firmly.

The quick change had Hannibal shaking, breath coming out in short, hot puffs. He could feel Will’s own length against his ass, and it was all he could do not to grind back against it, feeling needy from just a little teasing.

“If you want me to let you cum later, you’ll tell me about your dream now, Hannibal. I might even be nice and suck you off instead.”

Hannibal gave another whine, something he was unaccustomed to doing—although Will had his ways of undoing him. That, and he’d been hard long before he awoke, and the way Will held his cock made him ache, already overwhelmed from the teasing.

And the promise of a warm, wet mouth? It made him shudder just to think about.

“I keep thinking about Muskrat Farm.” He blurted out, cheeks turning a deep red.

There was a pregnant pause, and Will’s brows furrowed despite knowing Hannibal couldn’t see his expression.

But, silently, he let up on his vice-grip of Hannibal’s cock, hearing a relieved groan leave his lover.

“Explain.” He demanded after a moment, simply needing a second to reset. What about that awful experience could have been so arousing? Mason Verger filled him with contempt and disgust, and although the thought of Hannibal stimulating the bastard with a cattle prod was amusing, it was by no means titillating to him.

“...about...being tied up.” Hannibal paused, feeling the flush reach his ears. He felt like an idiot trying to explain it, but after a few torturous moments of searching for his words, he felt Will’s hand return to a slow stroke along his cock.

“Well, BDSM isn’t anything new to us, Hanni…”

“Not like _that…”_ Hannibal huffed, soothed as he felt Will rest his head on his shoulder. Wills was smiling, merely curious now what Hannibal implied as he watched the man below him shudder, watching the muscles beneath his skin twitch with every movement of his wrist.

“Like...an animal. Like…”

“Like a pig…?” Will’s brows raised again, and he tried to keep himself from laughing when he felt Hannibal’s cock throb beneath his fingers. Ohhh. 

“I...yes…” Gnawing at his lip, Hannibal leaned back into Will’s chest, sheets tangled beneath his hands in front of him.

“Fattened up for the slaughter too, I bet?” Will teased, beginning to work his hands in faster movements, surprised when a low moan left his partner and he felt Hannibal’s hips press back.

Oh, he really _was_ into it like that.

A flush caught his own cheeks, and Will buried his face against Hannibal’s shoulder blades, listening to the ragged panting of his lover.

“B...but only for you…” he gasped, voice rising in the way that Will knew he was already close.

“I...ah...had no desire when...when Cordell spoke of cutting me piece by piece...b-but I...hahh...let my mind wander to you…”

“To me, fattening you up like a prized hog.” Will’s own voice grew gruff, and he paused, ignoring Hannibal’s impatient moan when he pulled away his hand.

“Shhh, sweet.” He soothed, tugging down both of their under garments. He knew Hannibal was close, and this was just another denial.

But he wanted something fun, and this was all beginning to give him an idea…

Spreading Hannibal’s firm thighs, he pushed his cock between them, grunting as he reached around to continue his strokes, starting to thrust into the slight softness he found.

“To me, slicing you bit by bit, down to the bone…” 

The image appeared clear as day in Hannibal’s mind, eyes teary as he thrust into Will’s hand unabashedly, a ragged moan leaving his lips.

Will continued to fuck his thighs, feeling the way he tightened around his cock the closer he grew, and he could tell Hannibal was on the verge of climax.

“Maybe I wouldn’t even kill you—ah—just...just keep you as my prized little hog...taking what I wanted when I wanted…” 

He was panting into Hannibal’s ear by now, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him surprisingly quickly.

“Although, by the time I’m through with you, I guess you, ah, wouldn’t be too little anymore…”

And then Hannibal shuddered, hips stuttering in a staccato rhythm until they froze, thighs shaking as he came, cock twitching hard in Will’s hand.

The tensing of his thighs was what undid Will—and he came not a moment after, cheeks ruddy as he bit lightly on Hannibal’s shoulder, growling low in his throat.

And so it was.


	2. Picnic Ham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will surprises Hannibal with dinner.

Hannibal wondered when they would talk about it again.

About his dream, and the way Will had teased him, and all the thoughts he’d put into Hannibal’s head.

He’d found his mind drifting nearly every day, which, while not unusual for him, was...distracting. Especially when cooking—and god forbid he be in the midst of cutting vegetables when his mind began to wander. 

He’d had to bandage his hands at least three times that week, nicking or slicing his fingers when his mind went to the morning he’d confessed. To the idea Will had given him of relinquishing control.

The doctor let out a sigh, glancing at the entryway to the cabin’s kitchen as he sliced through a bell pepper. 

Wasn’t Will supposed to be back by now?

It usually wouldn’t bother Hannibal too much if Will took a while shopping—that typically meant he was taking his time, being considerate of both the quality and care of the foods they would eat. And Hannibal found that admirable, charming even.

But the longer Will was away, the more he had time to consider why Will hadn’t brought up that night again. It had been nearly a week, and he was already back to dreaming about Will in the stable, teasing him.

Taking in a shuddering breath, he was brought back to the world of the living by a sharp pain, eyes widening as Hannibal realized he’d nicked his finger once more. Hissing in quiet fury, he rushed to the sink, rinsing the blood from his hand just as the front door swung open.

“Hannibal, I’m back.”

“In here, sorry. I appear to have injured myself.” Hannibal sighed, feeling uncharacteristically frazzled as he shook his hand dry, grabbing a paper towel from the roll by the sink.

Will set several bags of groceries on the island in the center of the kitchen, raising a brow.

“That’s four times this week you’ve cut your fingers. You’re getting awfully clumsy, Doctor Lecter.” Will mused, slinking his way over to his lover with a somewhat amused look in his eyes.

Hannibal huffed, rolling his eyes at Will’s light teasing.

“I’ve simply been...distracted. That is all.”

“Distracted? By what? You’re usually so focused.”

Hannibal felt his cheeks warm as Will took his hand, admiring the way the crimson trickled down between his first knuckle as the towel was removed.

“...just. Thinking about things. That we have discussed.”

Will couldn’t stop a cheeky grin from plastering itself to his face, taking the bleeding digit into his mouth, one brow quirked curiously as he sucked the remaining blood off of Hannibal’s hand.

The doctor felt his breath catch in his throat, rendered near-silent, save for his own breathing as Will dragged his teeth lightly over the appendage, the flat of his tongue rubbing along the tip of his finger.

Popping it out of his mouth, Will took his own hand to cradle the side of his boyfriend’s very red face. There was a dangerous glint in his gaze now.

“Distracted by me?”

“Yes.” Hannibal could only croak, both his mouth and throat suddenly dry. His heart was a jackrabbit hammering in his chest, feeling caged in the most wonderful way by Will’s eyes. Those hazel mirrors that both held him and collared him, in more ways than one.

He could barely hear Will laughing over the roar of blood in his ears, having to reset as his lover moved across the kitchen back towards the island. He began to unbag their groceries, humming some oddly familiar, yet unrecognizable tune.

And once again, it was as if it had never happened.

“Will, it is considered unkind to sexually gaslight someone in their own kitchen.”

Hannibal had found his voice once more, giving a shy, goofy smile as he spun on his heel, going to clean his cut once more now that it had stopped bleeding.

“Oh, it’s not gaslighting if I plan on lighting the flame, Hannibal.”

Two arms, clothed in emerald plaid sleeves, wound their way around Hannibal’s waist, pushing up under his apron to claw delicately into the doctor’s sweater. The action made Hannibal give pause, only the sound of rushing water filling his ears as he felt the heat return to his face.

“Will, am I ever going to get to finish cooking dinner?”

The words were meant to come off as teasing, but he simply sounded exasperated and flustered, tone unsteady as he felt Will push his hands under his shirt. The ex-profiler’s rough fingers slid along his stomach, which had picked up just a touch more softness since their escape over a year ago.

“Why don’t you let me handle dinner, darling?”

“Because I fear you’d try to feed me frozen garbage.” Hannibal mused, earning a pinch to his midsection that made him yelp. Still, he cracked a wide grin, looking over his shoulder at Will cheekily.

“Hush. I’m planning on cooking, it’s not like I’m going to force-feed you McDonalds. Now, go get ready for dinner.”

And with that, Will unwound himself from Hannibal’s body, untying and stealing the apron as he moved to put away the groceries.

Hannibal huffed in quiet disappointment, though with what, he wasn’t quite certain. Had he wanted to push Will’s buttons a little harder? Perhaps. 

Or maybe he wanted Will to tie him down, and force whatever he wanted into Hannibal’s mouth.

Walking upstairs, Hannibal felt the tugs of arousal, but willed himself to ignore it, changing out of his sweater into something a little more appropriate for dinner. At least in his eyes.

Having no idea what Will had in store, Hannibal, dressed in a simple button-down shirt and slacks, sat down at their table. He crossed one leg over the other, humming as he took in the surroundings of their little seaside cabin.

Their furnishings were what one could consider bare bones—although Hannibal himself had been working to rectify that. But money was tight, or it had been until late. Faking a suicide took its own tolls, even monetarily—such as the liquidation of Hannibal’s and Will’s assets, with the former being a much more substantial loss.

Thankfully, Will was not an idiot, and kept his court settlement in cash. It had just taken the last twelve months of their hiding to obtain the damn jar buried in his former home in Wolf Trap.

A year was just enough time to keep the buzzing flies of the FBI from their whereabouts. 

Hannibal himself was still trying to obtain access to a few offshore accounts he’d held, but Will’s settlement was at least holding them over. For now.

The doctor had started to fiddle with a stray thread on his sleeve, brows furrowed as he worried to himself, and was completely unaware when Will called his name from behind, approaching from the kitchen.

“Hannibal?”

A pause, and then Will gently shook his shoulder, bringing his lover back to earth.

“Hannibal, I finished dinner.” Will laughed, gruff and light as he set the plate before his boyfriend, only disappearing for a moment before he returned with his own plate.

A noticeably smaller portion.

The doctor raised a brow, giving Will a scrutinizing look through squinted maroon eyes before turning his attention back to the plate, admiring the simple plating. He’d come to appreciate the more rustic meals the two had come to eat—although he couldn’t help a small chuckle as he popped a forkful of roasted potatoes into his mouth.

“I should just be thankful you’re not feeding me instant mash, right?”

“Oh, don’t be so ungrateful!” Will snorted, though he gave Hannibal a genuinely sharp grin as he started on his own meal. Steak and potatoes—something simple, filling and delicious. Though of course, nothing as extravagant as Hannibal would have cooked for one of his parties.

Still, Hannibal found he enjoyed Will’s cooking when the profiler followed the urge. For now, he’d at least gotten him out of using frozen meats and canned vegetables.

Humming, Hannibal cut through his steak, letting a soft sound come through his throat as he chewed, and feeling Will’s predatory gaze on him like a hawk and it’s prey. He was as much putting on a show as he was genuinely eating and enjoying his meal. This may have been the main course, but Hannibal knew he was the dessert.

Will watched the bob of Hannibal’s Adam’s apple, enjoying the sight of the doctor enraptured with a meal, however simple it was. There was something tender about the idea, even removed from the context of eating Hannibal, of a lover putting on weight from the labors of their partner’s cooking.

Hardly touching his own food, Will merely nibbled at his plate, glancing almost nervously for any sign Hannibal would have wanted to back out. But when Will noticed his plate growing empty, there was a spark of something in his chest—something that burned in the best way and made his grin travel up the sides of his face.

“...care for seconds?” Will asked, seemingly innocent, though his gaze danced lower, to the curve of the front of Hannibal’s shirt. He’d already given the doctor a hefty helping, more than twice his own; it seemed Hannibal had finished it without much issue. Though, if the slight swell of Hannibal’s belly was anything to go on, it had been filling.

“Mm. Perhaps a little more wouldn’t hurt…” Nonchalant as ever, Hannibal wiped his mouth with one of the table napkins, though he quirked a brow playfully as Will stood, taking his plate.

Another dance. A less-dangerous form of their own masochism tango to see who would break the facade of civility first. Whether Will would find his own, domineering, demanding self—or Hannibal, a possible submissive streak. It was up in the air, if only for a moment.

And then Will returned, and Hannibal was almost certain there was even more food now. A challenge. One he was unwilling to turn down. Smiling, he nodded in thanks before tucking into the plate. His pace had slowed significantly, though Hannibal seemed to pass it off as appreciation, rather than him struggling with fullness. Will scooted his chair closer, eyes hungry as they trained on the way Hannibal’s mouth moved.

And then the doctor seemed to hit his limit, lips parted as he panted softly, quietly pushing the plate back as he reclined in his chair. 

“Ah...I...appear to have overdone it…” Hannibal admitted, a light flush beginning to creep up his cheeks. He placed a hand on either side of his stomach, which pressed out taut against his button-down, looking at Will woefully. The younger man felt his breath catch at the sight—Hannibal flustered and swollen—and found himself wanting more.

“...surely you can fit a little more? After all, it would be quite rude to leave such little left on the plate…”

Will had pulled himself to stand, cupping Hannibal’s cheek as he took a forkful of potatoes in his right hand. He noted the spark of excitement in the doctor’s eyes, and grinned, pressing the food to his lips. Hannibal took the bite gingerly, wanting to enjoy the food despite the tight pain along his belly. 

Another mouthful, and he struggled to swallow it down, panting softly between parted lips as one hand seemed permanently rested on his distended gut. If Hannibal had been alone, he would have been mortified by the sheer force of his own arousal, which made his slacks doubly tight as Will held his jaw firmly. Will cooed softly as he forced another bite into Hannibal’s soft mouth, feeling a throb in his own cock as he remembered the way those same teeth had torn out the throat of Francis Dollarhyde.

“Good boy…” Will praised, his own voice low and breathless, while Hannibal fully submitted to his wants. The doctor, whether he knew it or not, was trembling, quiet whines of discomfort leaving him as Will gave him a second to catch his breath. 

“We’re almost done...just two more bites. Can you do that for me…?” 

A silent nod from his lover was given, and Will took the forkful to Hannibal’s mouth, which he chewed more slowly than any before. The former profiler cast his gaze down, catching the way Hannibal’s form-fitting shirt strained against him.  _ Not quite enough, _ Will thought to himself— _ not yet.  _

Stroking his thumb along Hannibal’s cheek, Will watched him swallow the last bite on the plate, while a quiet whimper left his lover.

“Please…”

“Please what, Hanni?”

“Please, my stomach, it hurts…”

Will’s heart dropped a touch, fearing momentarily he’d pushed Hannibal too far, before the doctor grabbed hold of Will’s hand, placing it against the swell of his belly.

“I’m so full, please Will…” Hannibal’s eyes were sparkling with something—perhaps submission, but something more. He knew what he was doing to Will. “Please touch me.”

Will’s cheeks flushed darkly, and he nodded almost mutely as he rubbed firm circles into his lover’s belly, noting the way Hannibal’s head fell back in a low moan. It was affecting Hannibal just as much as it was Will, clearly.

Moving both his hands to Hannibal’s middle now, Will unbuttoned his boyfriend’s shirt, breath catching at the way his once-flat stomach pressed against the button of his slacks; Hannibal had even declined a belt. He’d known the whole time that Will had planned to stuff him to near bursting.

And the idea made his head spin with arousal, eyes looking up at Hannibal with wild lust. Hannibal was panting softly, but grinning despite it all.

“I...I want you to make me bigger, Will.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Rip this is the first NSFW fic I’ve ever posted (but not the first I’ve ever written) so pwease no steppy


End file.
